


Helped

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Obikin Week 2k18 [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Day 7, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Injured Anakin (Non Graphic), Light Angst, M/M, NO DEATH, Obikin Week 2018, Some Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Anakin's been hurt in a crash on an unfamiliar planet, leaving his hands currently not working. Obi-Wan has to be his fingers to repair the ship... he's doing his best, but he's no ship whisperer.





	Helped

**Author's Note:**

> Obikin Week 2k18 Day 7: Anakin’s Prosthetic/Time (Used Both)

 

Anakin hissed and threw the hydrospanner, hearing it clank somewhere in the darkened hall of the ship.

Obi-Wan froze, eyes wide.

For a long moment Anakin couldn't speak through his frustration. His metal hand had been crushed in the crash, their men didn't know what system they were in, and the electrical interference in the cloud cover kept them from comming for help.

Added to that, he couldn't actually _feel_ the fingers of his left hand. He could see them, they moved, but he couldn't feel the little differences beneath his fingertips needed for the repairs to make the ship flyable again.

So here he was, trying to talk Obi-Wan through how to do it so they could get back, and get  _both_ of Anakin's damn arms  _fixed._

“I'm sorry,” Obi-Wan murmured, sounding defeated.

Anakin knew his lover continuously measured himself against Anakin and always,  _somehow,_ decided Obi-Wan was lacking.

He couldn't let Obi-Wan add  _something else_ to the list. He didn't want Obi-Wan thinking himself useless now.

“You're doing your best,” Anakin huffed. “And you're good at mechanical repairs.”

Obi-Wan could usually sort out the troubles in a broken speeder bike, repair a starship engine, hotwire a vehicle, and he could fly like something born to do so,  _almost_ as well as Anakin himself. Just... a few less flourishes and loops.

Obi-Wan gave voice to Anakin's thoughts. “But this isn't an engine.”

And it certainly wasn't. It was the console that  _talked_ to the engines and the life-support systems, and all the  _important things._ Electrical work, and Anakin always fixed that sort of thing by  _feel,_ but his brain didn't connect with his hands right now, and it connected with his  _tongue_ even  _less._

“Let me try to heal your hand again,” Obi-Wan offered, pulling himself out from under the access panel.

Anakin shook his head, and as Obi-Wan got close enough for it, pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “No.” Healing wasn't Obi-Wan's gift, and it always left him drained and shaking, eyes glassy, on the edge of utter despair and soul in a visceral pain. “We'll try again, and I promise this time I won't shout.”

“I'm being stupid,” Obi-Wan dismissed with a pained half-smile.

Anakin shifted himself closer and under the dash, peering up into the tangled mess of half-melted wires. “No, you're not. And we're going to get out of here, we're going to make it back and Ahsoka's going to ream us a new one because we didn't give everyone our  _exact_ itinerary.”

For a long moment there was silence before Obi-Wan lay down beside him, head right next to Anakin's, and looked up at the trouble again.

“I know it's difficult, for you to accept help,” Obi-Wan murmured at last. “And my fingers are slow, and it takes me a minute to process what each of your directions mean. I'm trying, Anakin. And we're closer to getting ourselves out of this than we were when we started. So please... I know it's taking me far more time than it would take you... but I swear we can get out of here, if you'll just give me a little forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness for having different talents than I do?” Anakin asked, turning his head to look at Obi-Wan, even though it brought them almost nose-to-nose. “Force, Obi-Wan.”

He felt ashamed of himself, now, for his impatience.  _Obi-Wan wants to get out of here just as much as I do. He's not lingering on purpose._

“I wish I could blame my slowness on my age,” Obi-Wan quipped.

Anakin reached out his living hand, bumped it clumsily against Obi-Wan's cheek. “You don't have to do that,” he whispered. “Make fun of yourself to try to keep people from being angry at you since your strengths lie elsewhere. I was a dick, and I'm sorry.”

“You're clever and skilled, Anakin. It's simply surprising that you're not in a continual state of frustration with me by your side.” A shimmering glistened in Obi-Wan's eyes, and it made Anakin's throat close up.

“Hey,” Anakin breathed. “I'm by  _your_ side, and I'm there by choice, because there's no place I'd rather be.” He leaned forward, pressed a gentle kiss to Obi-Wan's lips, felt the tentative return of pressure. “I need you to take the purple wire and strip the coating back a few centimeters. Then you're going to twist it with the one you just finished, okay?”

Obi-Wan managed a nod, throat too full for speech.

But that was alright.

_And however long it takes you to complete this task that's so difficult for you, it will be alright._

_I'll wait for you._

 


End file.
